View allAll Photos Tagged tree;
Tree sparrow (Passer montanus) perched on a barbed wire.
Mazurek (Passer montanus) siedzÄ…cy na drucie kolczastym.
Tree sparrow (passer montanus) perched on a branch.
Mazurek (Passer montanus) siedzący na gąłęzi.
Dead trees near Baraque Michel in the High Fens, Wallonia, Belgium
Tote Bäume bei Baraque Michel, Hohes Venn, Wallonische Region, Belgien
Alberi morti vicino Baraque Michel, Hautes Fagnes, Vallonia,
Belgio
NEX-7 with with adapted manual lens
I hated this pic for the longest, cuz, the strong reflections on the hood...whatever, it's a great Vette
Early Autumn. The trees are heavy with ivy, quite naturally, as the owners leave nature to take its course...
Trees come in all shapes and sizes
This is taken from the path from the village of Arkendale to Poplars Farm over Arkendale Moor in North Yorkshire
The path was through some beautiful meadow land which in the summer is full of wild flowers but the lower areas now still had standing water under the grass.
I must credit the farmer from Poplars Farm for cutting a wide path around a large field with corn growing which makes the path easy to find and easy to walk
Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) is a medium-sized swallow, with gleaming white underparts. Adult males are bright iridescent blue-green above; females and immatures are duller brownish with limited or no iridescence. Always note compact shape, fairly broad wings, and slightly notched tail. Occurs in a variety of open habitats including grassy fields, lakes, and marshes. Often in flocks, sometimes mixed with other species of swallows.
Taken just as fall begins. The beautiful coloured leaves, falling away from the tree just screams Fall about to hit
Shot in Pienza, Italy with the Olympus E-M1 and the Olympus M.Zuiko Digital ED 12-40mm F2.8 Pro lens.
Tree sparrow (Passer montanus) perched on a branch.
Mazurek (Passer montanus) siedzący na gałązce.
In Irish folklore it is believed fairy trees are the sacred grounds for the fairies and as such are considered sacred and are left untouched wherever they grow. They are usually Hawthorns, as is the case here, sometimes Ash .
All night around the thorn tree, the little people play,
And men and women passing will turn their heads away.
They’ll tell you dead men hung there, its black and bitter fruit,
To guard the buried treasure round which it twines its root.
They’ll tell you Cromwell hung them, but that could never be,
He’d be in dread like others to touch the Fairy Tree.